Everything's Changed
by Tiger Woody
Summary: Sam and Dean definitely aren't the people they were 8 years ago when they first set off back on the road together-but do they really notice the changes they've gone through? A certain angel decides it's his responsibility to show them just that. T for language and possible violence
1. Chapter 1

A/N - Firstly, I would like to thank all of you for your continued support. Not a single one of my fanfictions up to this point has gone without at least one positive review, and for that, I am very grateful. Secondly, I would like to address this work particularly. You know those ideas for fanfictions that you get in the most random places? The shower, your car, geometry . . . The ones that stick with you and eat away at your very soul until you finally cave and begin to write? That is what this idea was. But no more! Since the placement of this story is Season 1 and Season 8, and we are currently IN Season 8, let's just pretend that the episodes that have currently happened or are happening just go with the plot. It really doesn't matter anyway . . . I don't think I'll be bringing Benny into this at all, and Amelia may only be mentioned at best. Alright, without further ado, here we go!

/

Sam stared out the window of the Impala, trying to clear his head. Everything that had happened lately with Jess was still fresh in his mind, and despite his older brother's many attempts to distract him, it seemed like the pain would never completely go away.

Dean noticed his brother had been in a particularly emo-boy mood that day, and wasn't quite sure how to deal with it. He could joke around like he normally did-but he also didn't want to make Sam annoyed with him. He feared that staying silent for too long, however, would give the impression that he didn't care or hadn't noticed.

Finally, he couldn't take the ongoing quiet any longer. "Hey, Sammy?"

Sam turned his head and faced Dean but said nothing.

"Got anything that looks good?" he tilted his head towards the newspaper on the dashboard.

Sam shrugged. "A few weird murders in Oklahoma City."

"Weird how?"

Sam reached over and picked up the paper. After a few moments of page turning, he found what he was looking for. "People keep getting struck by lightning on perfectly sunny days, and there have been a few wild animal attacks."

"Sounds like two monsters in the same area," Dean said. "Lightning and animal attacks . . . That can't be related, can it?"

Sam shook his head. "Doesn't sound like anything we've ever faced before. But then again—I find that we say that a lot."

**-8 Years Later-**

Sam stared out the window of the Impala, trying to clear his head. Everything that had happened lately with Amelia was still fresh in his mind, and his older brother's constant harassment about Sam not having looked for him while he was in Purgatory wasn't helping at all.

Dean noticed his brother had been in a particularly emo-boy mood that day, and wasn't quite sure how to deal with it. He thought that maybe joking around with him would help-but he also wasn't very keen to cheer his brother up in the first place. They may have been able to get over the whole "you're working with a vampire"/ "you didn't look for me while I was in purgatory" thing, but that didn't mean their relationship was back to the way it had been before. He feared that staying silent for too long, however, would give the impression that he didn't need Sam to snap out of it.

Finally, he couldn't take the ongoing quiet any longer. "Sam?"

"What?" Sam asked, not bothering to look away from the window.

Dean used one hand to tap the laptop resting on Sam's legs. "You got anything?"

Sam shrugged. "Something in Oklahoma City looked weird."

"What was it?"

The lack of Wi-Fi permitted Sam from opening his computer and checking, and he silently cursed himself for not having written the information down. Why hadn't he just picked up a newspaper anyway? That was how they had always found hunts in years past! "Something about lightning and animal attacks I think?"

Dean's eyebrows arched together. "That sound familiar to you?"

Sam thought a moment, and then shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Not like anything I've ever faced before."

Dean nodded. "Alright, Oklahoma City it is then."

/

The drive was a long one, and with only each other for company, the Winchester Boys resorted to their usual antics of pranks and tom foolery. Would they ever grow up? Probably not.

Dean had already played two rounds of his favorite game—put things in Sam's mouth while he slept, and Sam had already gotten him back by shoving the cassette tapes where he couldn't reach while driving and putting it on the Top 40 Station.

"My ears!" Dean howled as the Black Eyed Peas blasted through the Impala.

"'S what you get," Sam told him, and then proceeded to obnoxiously sing along including—much to Dean's dismay—the rapping sections.

Dean opened his mouth to complain once more, but just as they were crossing the border into Oklahoma, the radio turned to static. Dean let out a sigh of relief. "Never in my life have I been so grateful for a crappy signal."

Sam smirked. "Alright, alright. Hey, it's getting late, why don't we stop somewhere and pick up the hunt tomorrow?"

Dean nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Nearest motel?"

Sam shrugged and looked down at one of the tourist maps he had picked up at a rest stop three miles back. "Looks like . . . St. Mary's Inn."

"Oh great," Dean commented. "Religious freaks who run a motel. Friggin' perfect."

**-8 years later—**

The drive was a long one, and with only each other for company, the Winchester Men resorted to their usual arguments and bickering. Would they ever put aside their differences? Probably not.

Dean had already called Sam out twice for not searching for him while he was in Purgatory, and Sam had already gotten him back by going on and on to no end about Benny and how he couldn't believe Dean would trust a vampire—especially after all the grief he had once given Sam about Ruby.

"Enough!" Dean howled as Sam's argument grew more intense.

"Can't handle the fact that I might be equally justified?" Sam snapped. He continued to defend himself long after Dean had stopped listening and cranked the radio up to ungodly levels of sound.

Dean opened his mouth to yell at his brother once more, but just as they were crossing the border into Oklahoma, the radio turned to static. Dean hit the dashboard three times as hard as he could, with no effect. "Goddamn it . . . Of all the times for a crappy signal."

Sam rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. He didn't feel like being in the same car as his brother any more. "Let's just find somewhere to stay and pick up the hunt tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan. Nearest motel?"

Sam checked the tourist pamphlet he had grabbed at a gas station a few hours before hand. "St. Mary's Inn."

"Oh great," Dean commented. "Religious freaks who run a motel. Friggin' perfect."

/

Sam fell asleep that night faster than he had in months. Lately he had been dreading sleep above all else—the nightmares were too terrible to bare, but for some reason that night, he found himself anticipating a time when it would be late enough for him to doze off without Dean calling him out for it.

**-8 years later—**

Sam fell asleep the night faster than he had in years. Lately he had been craving more sleep above all else—he and Dean had been nonstop hunting so much lately it was nearly too much to bare, and by some miracle that night, he found himself able to lay down and rest his head at a time so early he was surprised Dean hadn't called him out for it. Then again, Dean seemed to be in a pretty crappy mood lately.

/

When he woke up the next morning, Sam felt as though he had been smashed in the head with a ton of bricks. Funny though, he couldn't remember having a nightmare. As a matter of fact, he couldn't remember having dreamt at all. "Dean?" he called groggily.

Dean grunted in response, clearly not awake enough to pay much attention.

"Dean I'm serious," Sam croaked. "'M not feelin' so hot."

"So get yourself a freaking Advil!" Dean snapped.

"Jeez, what crawled up your ass in the middle of the night . . ." Sam asked, but nonetheless he got up and walked over to his duffel anyway. He rifled through, trying to find the Advil. It wasn't where he had left it . . . "Dean, it's not in here."

"What the hell is wrong with your voice?" Dean asked, ignoring him. "You sound like you got hit in the junk or something."

Sam's eyebrows creased. "I could ask you the same question. What'd you hit second puberty or something?"

That was when Dean sensed something might be wrong. He opened his eyes ever so slightly and found . . .

"Holy shit!" Dean exclaimed. "Sam—what the hell happened?"

Sam looked around the room, unaware of what his brother meant. "What are you talking about?"

"When did you cut all your hair off and where was I?" Dean asked; a smiled creeping onto his face. "You know, I'm actually kind of surprised Amelia didn't make you cut it that whole time you were with her."

"Who's Amelia?" Sam asked, utterly perplexed.

Dean's eyebrows creased. "Your girlfriend? Or . . . She was your girlfriend. I guess something happened—you won't tell me what if I may remind you."

"Dean," Sam shifted his weight to his other foot. "My girlfriends name was Jessica. And you _know_ what happened to her—you were there. Remember?"

That was when it hit Dean. The hair, the voice, the confusion . . . Even his face looked different! How had he not noticed? "Sam . . . How old are you?"

"Really Dean?" Sam asked. "You can't even remember how old I am now?"

"Answer the question."

"Twenty-two," Sam said; his voice thickly layered with irritation. How could Dean forget such a thing?

Dean snatched the motel calendar from the bedside table and held it out to his _much_ younger brother.

Sam read the date. But—no, that wasn't possible. It was 2005, not 2012! He would have accused the motel of screwing up had he not checked the date himself just the night before. Then, it had said 2005. He was sure of it.

And then it all made sense. Dean's voice, the weird questions, hell he even looked older . . . Sam had somehow ended up in the future.

**-8 years ago—**

When he woke up the next morning, Sam felt as though he had been smashed in the head with a ton of bricks. Funny though, he couldn't remember having any recent head trauma. As a matter of fact, he hadn't been injured within the last few weeks at all. He pulled himself out of his bed and walked over to the duffel bag. He unzipped the front pocket where they normally kept the pain killers. Only now—they were missing. "Dean?" he called groggily.

Dean grunted in response, clearly not awake enough to pay much attention.

"Dean I'm serious," Sam croaked. "Where'd you put the Advil?"

"Inside pocket, just like always," Dean replied into his pillow.

"We always keep it in the front pocket," Sam told him. "We have been for years."

"Sammy what the hell are you talking about?" Dean asked. "And what's going on with your voice? Finally hit puberty?"

Sam cleared his throat—did he really sound that gravely in the morning? "You're one to talk. What'd you get hit in the junk or something?"

Dean turned over onto his back and opened his eyes to find . . .

Within seconds he had grabbed the pistol from under his pillow, sat up, and faced it at the Sasquatch man at the foot of his bed. "Who the hell are you and what've you done with my brother?"

Sam scowled. "Dean now's not the time for jokes. We've got work to do and my head is killing me could you just—"

"Sammy?" Dean asked, taking a closer look. Same face . . . Same height. But, buffer. Definitely buffer. And that hair—what the hell? Then something clicked. "Sam, how old are you?"

"Really Dean?" Sam asked. "You can't subtract four from your own age?"

"Answer the question."

"Thirty," Sam told him, not the least bit surprised his brother had forgotten.

Dean's eyes grew wide. "Sammy . . . You're twenty-two. Or you were last night." He grabbed the motel calendar from the bedside table and tossed it to his younger—older—younger?—brother. It read 2005. Sam would have called the motel out for never replacing their calendars had he not checked the date only the night before. It had read 2012, he was sure of it.

Sam looked up at Dean. He definitely looked younger. His hair was a little longer too—messier. And his jaw line a little less pronounced. Their father's leather jacket was hanging off the back of a chair on the other side of the room. He hadn't seen that since . . . And if none of that had given it away, around Dean's neck was the necklace Sam had given him as a child—the necklace Dean had tossed in the trash years ago.

"Oh no . . ."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all the positive feedback guys! **

/

_Now_

Dean pulled himself out of bed and walked up to Sam. How could that possibly be his younger brother? "Sam, what the hell happened?"

Sam looked around the motel room. Everything was the same right down the placement of the furniture. But maybe the walls' paint seemed to be a little more faded, and perhaps the mattress was sagging a bit more . . . Had he really been thrown into the future? But where was Sam from that year? "I—I don't . . ."

"Are you pulling one over on me?" Dean asked. "Did you get Cas to help you with this?"

"'Cas?'" Sam repeated. He looked genuinely confused.

Dean's eyebrows creased. Did he really not know who Cas was? If it really was Past-Sam, that would make sense since he hadn't yet met the angel.

"Dean, I'm really confused," Sam said and Dean was suddenly reminded of how much better at the puppy eyes Sam had been when he was younger. He could hardly face them now—never mind then! This was too much.

"Alright, Sammy," he said. "Get dressed, we'll figure something out."

Sam nodded and turned back to the duffle. He pulled out a shirt and held it out at arm's length. "This is _mine?" _

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, guess you have put on a little muscle weight, huh?"

"These clothes are for a giant!" Sam exclaimed.

_Then _

"Sammy, what the hell happened?" Dean asked. He walked up to his brother and poked his face. "Why are you older?"

Sam didn't have a good answer. Obviously he had been sent back in time, but how? And where was the Sam from that year? None of it made sense. "Dean . . . What's the last thing you remember me doing before I went to bed last night?"

Dean shrugged. "Not much. You hit it early . . . I was surprised because you haven't been sleeping so well lately. Nightmares of Jess and all . . ."

Jess. Jessica had just recently died in this time . . . That seemed so unreal. So much more had happened since her death that it was impossible to remember it all. "Where are we?"

"Oklahoma City," Dean told him. "Investigating animal deaths and electrical storms."

Sam looked around the motel room. So he hadn't imagined it—this _was_ the same room. But that didn't make any sense either! Dean had said something about the case sounding familiar . . . Perhaps they had seen the same thing years ago, around the same time of year, and being there caused some type of time-warp, like the time Sam lived through hundreds of Tuesdays. But that had been Gabriel . . . Who was still alive in 2005. Perfect.

"Have we faced a trickster yet?" Sam asked.

"A what?"

"Perfect . . ." Sam sighed. "Friggin perfect. Alright, get dressed, we're going to get me back where I belong and find your Sam."

Dean's eyebrows creased. "Since when do you call the shots like that? Not that I'm complaining but . . . Damn, Sammy, never seen you take control."

"You will someday," Sam told him. He turned back to the duffle bag and pulled out a shirt, then held it at arm's length. "Well . . . Guess I've grown a little."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I'll say."

/

Sam sat on the inside of their booth, next to his brother. Across from them was a man that he had never met before with very dark hair, blue eyes and a trench coat. He looked a little out of it.

Also, he hadn't spoken a word since appearing in the back seat of the Impala on the ride to the diner.

Finally, he broke the silence. "You're not Sam."

"What gave it away? The hair cut?" Dean asked sarcastically. "Of course he's not! Well . . . He is. And that's the problem, this is Sam from—"

"-2005," the man finished. "Yes I see that. "But why?"

"That's why we called you in," Dean told him. He must have realized then that Sam had no idea at all what was going on, because it wasn't until then that he turned to his little brother and began to explain. "Sammy, this is Castiel. He's a friend of ours. He's also a—uh, well he's, uh . . ."

"I'm an Angel of the Lord," Castiel introduced. "Or rather . . . I was. I'm kind of 'freelance' now."

Sam's eyes widened. "An _angel?_ Halo and fluffy white wings _angel?" _

"That's actually a popular misconception about our true appearances because actually we look very little like humans while in outside our vessels though when in them we do keep the wings, now halos on the other hand are disputed becau—"

"Can we finish CCD after we tackle the big problem here?" Dean interrupted.

Castiel nodded. "Right, of course, my apologies . . . Well, where is our Sam?"

Sam shrugged. "We think he might have gone back to my time. We switched or something."

"See apparently back then, we checked into the exact same room at the exact same motel on the exact same date in the same town for the same demonic omens," Dean filled in the angel. "We figure whatever it was we were hunting back then is back."

"Do you remember such a thing happening?" Castiel asked. "I assume you would remember waking up with an older version of your brother, right Dean?"

"That's the problem with that theory," Sam answered. "Dean and me from this year have no memory of that happening."

"Yes that is strange," Castiel agreed. "And you'll want to be put back in your correct time, yes?"

Sam nodded. "Uh, yeah . . . That'd be nice."

He turned to Dean. "And you would like the 'correct' version of Sam?"

"Why wouldn't I?!" Dean exclaimed. "Not that I've got a problem with this one . . . I mean quite honestly I kinda miss Sam being such a dorky kid—"

"Hey!"

"But we need our Sammy back where he belongs."

"Sorry, I was just under the impression that you might wish to leave him where he is. It didn't seem to me like the two of you have been getting along very well lately," Cas said.

"We're fighting?" Sam asked. It wasn't too unusual for him and Dean to argue . . . But to be so crossed with each other that leaving one behind in the past was a considerable option? That wasn't normal.

Oh great. How would Dean answer that one? Here this poor kid was, hardly in his twenties, hadn't seen much yet—thrown into a future he couldn't possibly have expected. Dean knew damn well this wasn't the way Sammy had originally planned his life to go. He was supposed to find what killed Jess, get back to school and live a normal life again. How well had that gone? No . . . Dean couldn't tell him all that.

"Yeah, just stupid stuff," he lied. "Guess you'll see in eight years."

Sam snorted and leaned back against the booth. "Eight years . . . We're still talking eight years from now? That's great."

Dean smirked a little. He hadn't really thought about it that way . . . It was kind of great that he and Sam still talked, considering the alternative.

"And we still go on hunts?" Sam asked. "I figured I'd have given that up completely by now. What is it like a weekend/holiday thing? Emergency-only?"

"Uh . . . a little more often than that," Dean said. Oh no . . . This conversation wasn't going to end well.

"You two live on the road together," Castiel added, not catching Dean's attempts to shelter the younger version of Sam. "All you do is hunt."

"No way!" Sam exclaimed. "Not eight years from now. I'll be back in school by then. Maybe even married or something."

"Well, you were considering marrying Amelia if my memory serves correctly," Castiel told him. "But then her husband ended up being alive so you left. Not long after that of course Dean returned from Purgatory so the two of you—"

"Purgatory?! That's real now too!" his head snapped to his brother. "You've been there!? Wait—don't you have to be dead to go there?"

"Well, surprisingly not because the Catholics got it all wrong. It's really more like what Dante said—"

"Why were you in Purgatory?!" Sam didn't need some complicated explanation from Dean. Sounded like he didn't understand it much to begin with anyway. He was much more curious as to _why_ is older brother was locked up in limbo.

"We didn't realize that killing Dick would have such major consequences," Castiel told him.

"Killing WHAT?!"

"Alright calm down!" Dean exclaimed, silencing the both of them. "Sammy . . . There's a lot that's happened since 2005, alright? We've been places we didn't even know existed and hunted things that . . . well, save that for later. Bottom line? There's a lot in store for you. It's better if you don't find out just yet. Right Cas?"

The angel shrugged. "Well I don't really see the harm in telling him any of this. I mean, clearly he doesn't end up remembering otherwise we would have known. We could probably tell him everything with little to no effect to the future outcome of our lives."

"Thank you, Cas," Dean said flatly. "You're really helping."

Cas smiled, clearly missing the hunters heavy sarcasm. "If you'd like I could give him a quick synopsis of the past eight years using my own knowledge of the situations you've encountered since joining back together after Sam's girlfriend from Stanford was killed . . ."

Before Dean had time to get out the words "No don't!" Cas had pressed two fingers to Sam's forehead. Sam's eyes flipped back and he slumped forward, his face almost landing in his pancakes (luckily Dean jerked him back just in time).

"He should awake in half an hour's time with the necessary information," Castiel told Dean.

"Damn it, Cas!" Dean nearly shouted. "This Sam isn't strong like ours! He can't handle all that crap—not yet! For all we know you could have done the equivalent of breaking down his hell wall—_again!" _

Castiel said nothing and looked down, clearly upset with himself for making Dean so angry. He was such a child! Couldn't he handle his problems like an adult? For an angel of his age this was just ridiculous.

/

Sam sat in the middle of the booth, across from his brother. In between them was their old laptop—one thing Sam did _not_ miss was the not-exactly-high-speed internet of 2005—that Sam was using to look for any other omens or strange happenings in the area.

Dean watched him with wide eyes. Neither of them had spoken on the ride to the diner.

Finally, he broke the silence. "Why aren't you freaking out more?!"

Sam simply shrugged and sipped his coffee. "We've face worse, haven't we?"

"Have we?!" Dean continued his voice a little too loud. "I wouldn't know! Because you're from the flippin' future!"

Sam considered that. Dean was right after all, at this point in their lives, they had hardly faced any of what was to come. Hell, they hadn't even died yet. _Ever._ That was mind-blowing. And also sad that he found that so hard to believe . . . Normal people only get to die once. What was that stupid saying he was always hearing? YOLO or whatever? Yeah. Ha! "Let's just say we've been up against a lot—_a lot —_of stuff that's much harder to overcome than traveling to the past. In fact we've done this before . . . A few times. Met Samuel Colt, met our parents . . ."

"You met Mom?" Dean asked. His tone was different . . . Softer maybe? Sam had forgotten his brother's voice could sound like that.

"Yeah," he said with a small smile. "She was so beautiful, Dean . . . And she and Dad were happy."

Dean smiled to. It was nice that Sam had gotten to meet their mother. He was so young when she died . . . Even he had trouble remembering her, and he was the older one. Then another thought came to him. "Hey, if you're from the future, then don't you know where Dad is? Why don't we just go find him and have him help us?"

Sam chuckled at the idea of showing up in front of his dad looking the way he did now. Only a few short months from now, John Winchester would be kicking the bucket for the first and last time. The very last thing he needed was a heart attack from seeing his youngest son at age 30. "No I don't think that's the best idea . . . Besides, even if I wanted to, there's no way I'd be able to remember everywhere Dad went while we were looking for him. In fact I'm not even sure that we ever really knew. He was good at covering up his tracks."

"'Was good,'" Dean repeated. "In the time you're from is Dad . . .?"

Sam sighed and looked back at the laptop screen. He couldn't meet Dean's eyes. "Yeah, Dad's . . . Dad's gone."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, before Sam exclaimed, "Cas! Cas is still here . . . If we could get a hold of him maybe he'd help."

"Cas?" Dean asked. "Who the hell is that?"

Dean not knowing who Cas was? Now _that_ was weird. God the two were practically dating in Sam's-time.

"He's a friend of ours from the future," Sam told him. "An angel. Hopefully in 2005 he was friendly . . ."

Sam shut the laptop and began gathering his things to leave. Dean held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa hold up. Angel? Like fluffy white wings, sits on your shoulder _angel?"_

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Well—no. Kind of. I'll explain later. For now we gotta get back to the motel."

"Wait!" Dean exclaimed. "If this Angel-Guy doesn't even know us yet, then why would he help us?"

"Because it's his job to make sure we survive until the apocalypse," Sam answered automatically.

"Say _what?"_

_Nice going,_ Sam told himself. "Nothing . . . I told you I'll explain later, now come on, let's go." He stood up.

"No," Dean told him. "I'm not goin' anywhere until you tell me what the heck is going on. Earlier you said something about a lot of worse stuff . . . What kind of stuff?"

Sam sighed. "Dean, this is ridiculous, let's just go . . ."

"No," Dean said again. "I've got the car keys, I call the shots. And let's not forget that I'm the older one, even if you are . . . older. Uh . . . never mind. Bottom line—I'm not leaving until I know what's going on."

"What about that whole space-time continuum thing?" Sam asked, obviously grabbing at loose strings. "If I tell you we could destroy the universe or something."

"Don't give me that crap," Dean told him. Something was seriously wrong with this New Sam and Dean wanted to know what. What had happened to his baby brother to make him so . . . Stiff? It was like he had transformed from lovable puppy to rock overnight. Not that he would ever say something like that out loud . . .

Sam looked around to make sure no one was listening, then sat back down. Dean was set on learning the truth. But was the truth going to be that easy to hear? This wasn't the Dean Sam was used to. This Dean was younger, more breakable. Sam wasn't used to having to shield his older brother from things but in this case it might be necessary . . .


	3. Chapter 3

Dean and Cas had managed to get the unconscious past-version of Sam into the bathroom of the diner without drawing much attention to themselves. Once inside-after checking they were alone, of course-Cas zapped him and the younger hunter back to their motel room, leaving Dean alone to pay the bill and drive the car back.

As he drove, he began to let his mind wander a bit, in a way he couldn't when other people were around. He thought about Sam. Not his Sam, but this younger one that had somehow ended up in the present. He was so much younger and so much more innocent . . . As much as Dean hated to admit it, he had much more of a fondness for that Sam then the one that belonged in his time. The real Sam was broken, battle scarred, and hardened from years of emotional torture. He never said anything about it, but Dean could tell that he was hurting all the time. He never got better-they had gone past the point of being able to get better. It wasn't what he had wanted for his brother.

But it sure as hell threw things back into perspective for him. He couldn't even remember why he and Sam weren't getting along. Sam had left him in Purgatory? How could Dean blame him for that-Sam had had no way of knowing where he was! And teaming up with a vampire? It wasn't like they hadn't done worse, Sam was just overreacting a bit. All the time they had spent being mad at each other was time they would never get back. And as sappy as it sounded, when it all came down to it at the end of the day, Sam was all Dean had. Cas, Benny . . . They were practically brand new when compared to Sam. He had always been there for Dean, and Dean had always been there for him. So why did Dean take that relationship for granted? Most brothers get in a fight, one packs up and moves away and they stop talking for awhile. He and Sam fight? Maybe if it's really bad they'll get different motel rooms. Not many families have that luxury of always being forgiven in the end.

Dean rubbed his eyes and shook his head. He was being to sentimental. Reading that far into things could be dangerous.

He pulled into the motel parking lot and parked outside their room. He went to reach for his keys, but before he could, the door flew open, revealing a frantic looking Cas.

"Cas, what hap-" Dean began, but he was cut off my Castiel grabbing his arm and pulling him inside the room.

"I don't know what happened," Cas said, pointing to Sam. He was lying on the bed curled up in a tight ball, his face buried so Dean couldn't see. But he could hear him. Quick breathing and tiny groans told him that Sam was having some kind of nightmare.

"You happened!" Dean exclaimed, maybe a little harshly. He brushed by the angel and hurried over to Sam and began to shake him slightly. "Sammy! Hey, Sammy! Wake up!"

"He won't awaken until the process is complete," Cas said. His voice was soft; Dean realized he must have hurt his feelings. He thought about apologizing but then he remembered that the whole mess was Cas's fault in the first place. "Dean, I'm sorry I didn't know . . ."

Uh-oh. Dean made the mistake of looking up to face Castiel. He was giving the kicked puppy face. That just wasn't fair! Dean really needed to find less adorable people to spend his time with, because between Sam and Cas, he was pretty much a melted mess of a pushover (he mentally kicked himself for thinking that).

"Listen Cas . . . It's . . . You didn't know." That was as much as Dean would allow himself to say.

The two sat next to each other on the bed opposite Sam and waited for several minutes. After awhile, Sam's breathing regulated and his limbs reacted. His eyelids fluttered open. He pulled himself up so he was sitting and rubbed his head, trying to process everything he had just seen.

"Dean . . ." he began.

Dean sprung up and nearly jumped across to the other bed. He lowered down next to his brother and shushed him. "Hey . . . it's okay . . . You were freaking out-what happened?"

Sam just shook his head, unable to find words. He wasn't fully human? He had . . . _died? _Many times. And so had Dean! They had both been to hell-and he was walking around without a soul? They had befriended angels and demons alike and-Dad. He was dead. So was Uncle Bobby. And lots of other people Sam still hadn't met yet.

"A lot has happened, I understand," Castiel said, rising to his feet. "And it is much to take in in such little time. Of course, I will wipe your memory for once we figure out to send you back. I figured you would need the necessary information for your time spent in this year with us."

"You . . . You pulled me out of hell?" Sam asked.

Castiel nodded. "Your brother as well."

"And you took away whatever evil crap I brought back . . . But why?"

Castiel was confused. He had never really thought about it. "What do you mean 'why'?"

"I'm part-demon," Sam said. "And you're an angel. Not only that but I apparently kick started the apocalypse!"

"Hey now," Dean put in. "To be fair, I broke the first seal. And Cas broke you out of the panic room."

"I did it because you're my friend," Cas answered. "To be honest, more than that. You two are my family and I thought that's what families do for each other."

Aw shit. As much as that touched Dean, he hated when Cas opened up like that. In his mind emotions better belonged hidden away under alcohol and porn magazines.

"I don't really know you yet," Sam said, before Dean had time to respond to Castiel's statement. "But I think I'll be lucky to have someday. You're a good guy, Castiel."

Cas smiled at that but said nothing.

"Alright, now enough of that," Dean blurted, unable to handle anymore Chick-Flick time. "Sammy, you gonna be okay?"

Sam thought a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah . . . I'll survive. It's just . . . A lot."

Dean nodded. "I know little brother. Take as much time as you need, but while you're doing that . . . Cas and I will get started on this case. I figure we get to the bottom of it, we get you back where your belong."

* * *

"You're sure you want to know?" Sam checked.

Dean nodded and pushed his breakfast plate away so he could rest his elbows on the table. "Story time, Sammy."

Sam took a deep breath and began, "Well, for one, a few months from now, we find Dad."

"Great!" Dean exclaimed.

"And get attacked by demons," Sam added.

"Not so great."

"You're almost killed. In fact you've got a reaper hanging around you, trying to get you to cross over," Sam went on. "So Dad sells his soul to the Yellow-Eyed-Demon and dies so you can live on."

Dean was silent.

"Then the two of us go back to Bobby's place-"

"Bobby," Dean interrupted. "Like _Uncle Bobby? _We haven't heard from him in years! Not since he had Dad had that argument . . ."

Sam had forgotten about that. There really had been a time once when Bobby wasn't such a big part of the their lives. He had been away at college for most of it but . . . It was still strange. "Well, you know Bobby. He moves on from things a lot faster than Dad did. Anyway, we stay with Bobby for a little while, then meet some really great people. Ash, Ellen, and her daughter Jo. They help us out a lot. Ellen and Jo were like family. Ash ends up learning too much, so the demons take care of him. At that point I had been kidnapped by Yellow-Eyes along with all the other children like me."

"Like you?" Dean asked. "What like . . . _psychic?" _

Sam nodded. "Yeah. We have to fight to the death, and I lose."

Dean's eyebrows creased. "You look pretty alive to me."

"That's because you sold your soul to bring me back," Sam said, with slight bitterness. Underneath it all he was still kind of pissed at his brother for that one. "The gates of hell were opened and lots of demons let loose. You got dragged downstairs and I was on my own for four months. In that time, I ended up . . . Uh, kind of _dating_ this one demon-"

"You shaked up with a demon?!"

'SHH!" Sam exclaimed. "There are people around! Yes, Ruby and I were together. She . . . Got me into some stuff I probably shouldn't have gotten into."

This was the part where the censoring came in.

"Think of it like a bad acid trip," Sam told his brother, leaving out the mention of Demon Blood and Dean's Hell PTSD. "Not good . . . She convinced me to kill this powerful demon, named Lilith. You said I shouldn't but I wouldn't listen and by killing Lilith I released Lucifer from hell-on accident!"

Dean snorted. "Nice one."

"As it would turn out though, angel's happen to need Vessels to walk around on Earth. Kind of like demons and possessing people. But angels . . . They can't just jump anybody's bones. It's gotta be someone specific. I happened to be that someone for Lucifer. So I let him inside of me, took control and jumped back into the hell box."

"You went to hell too?!" Dean exclaimed. "Damn what's wrong with us?"

Sam ignored that question. "I got out, don't worry." He planned on leaving the Soulless thing out as well. "Around the time I came back, the new King of Hell was looking into opening up Purgatory. We tried to stop him but that didn't end up working, and a bunch of monsters called Leviathan were let out. We ganked them too, and that's pretty much where I left off."

Okay, that wasn't entirely true. He had managed to leave out huge chunks of the story. But only parts that could go unmentioned without Dean noticing.

Dean ran his hand through his hair and blinked a few times. "Damn it, Sammy . . . That's a lot of crap. And only in eight years?"

"We kind of harden up to it," Sam admitted. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?"

"I think I'd rather be dead than have to live through that," Dean admitted. "But hey . . . Let's deal with what's in front of us for now. Getting you back home."

Different year; same Dean. But he did have a point . . . This was going to be tricky. Who could they ask for help without altering the future?


	4. Chapter 4

**Due to multiple people complaining that they didn't understand what was happening, I've decided to section off "then" and "now" for y'all. Also, in case it wasn't obvious, Past!Sam has downloaded every memory Present!Sam has from Castiel. **

_Then_

And then Sam got an idea. A horribly brilliant idea.

"Alright . . . I think I know what to do." He slid out from the booth and exited the diner, leaving Dean behind to pay the bill.

"Hey!" Dean exclaimed, dropping a couple bills on the table and then hurrying after his brother. "Sam!"

"Keys," Sam demanded when Dean caught up with him.

Dean looked confused. "What in the hell-"

"Keys," Sam repeated, holding out his hand. "You're gonna have to trust me on this one, Dean."

Dean stared at his brother for a moment, then nodded and reached down into his pocket to retrieve the car keys. He handed them to Sam and walked around to the passenger's side.

"So," Dean said, breaking the awkward silence that had begun to fall between them. They had been driving for a little under twenty minutes. "Eight years in the future, anything good happen?"

Sam tried to think. There had to be at least _one _good thing he could tell Dean, if not more . . . "I've got a new girlfriend . . . Or I did for a little while. Some stuff came up and I figured she'd be better with someone else. Nice while it lasted."

Dean didn't really know what to say so he just shrugged. "Women . . ."

"You had one too," Sam remembered. "Lived in a house and everything. You were _domesticated._"

Dean looked horrified. "No way!"

Sam laughed for the first time in awhile. "I swear!"

Dean leaned back against the seat, scratching his head. Living with a girl? Almost like _marriage? _He could never picture himself like that. Sammy, maybe, but only because he wanted it so badly.

Sam watched Dean and tried not to smile. He missed this version of his brother; carefree Dean Winchester. Sex is just a past time and drinking is just for fun. In a way he wished they could have stayed that way forever; never learning about Lucifer or the angels or anything that brought along. Sure, then they'd lose Cas, but what else would they have gained? Or what if their father had survived to live through it with them? Looking at everything that had happened _before _it had happened could really get someone thinking of all the possible futures there were to explore.

"So where are we going?" Dean asked, noticing his brother slowly drifting away into deep thought.

"Bobby's. If anyone knows how to call an angel; it's him. I only hope Cas is listening . . ."

_Now_

After a few hours, Sam emerged from the motel room, holding a mug of hot chocolate, and sat down next to his brother on the curb outside. Castiel watched him sip the dark liquid carefully, wondering what it would taste like.

Sam noticed. He held the cup out slightly. "Ever try it up in heaven?"

Cas shook his head slowly. "Eating and drinking human sustenance his unnecessary."

Sam's eyebrows shot up his head a little and he glanced at his brother. Dean nodded, giving him the okay to continue. Sam shoved the drink into Cas's hands. "Well, no one should live life without knowing what hot chocolate tastes like. It's practically a crime."

Cas stared down at it, debating his next move. When he looked up and saw 22-year-old Sam Winchester smiling at him hopefully, he couldn't help but go on. This was possibly the only chance he'd ever get to have an interaction with Sam at this age; at this level of development. It was probably the closest he'd get to seeing his friends as children; and even he realized how stupid it would be to pass that offer up. He let the drink spill into his mouth and warm his throat as he swallowed. Surprisingly, it was . . . _good. _He continued to drink, forgetting for the moment that it wasn't his to finish. Unfortunately, by the time he remembered, the hot chocolate was gone. He looked at Sam apologetically.

Sam just laughed and patted his back. "See?! Good, right?" He turned to Dean. "So . . . What are we gonna do? Not that I don't like hanging out with you guys but . . . My brother's waiting for me somewhere."

Dean nodded. He understood perfectly. "Well, it's probably safe to assume this is the work of some supernatural being-"

"Gabriel," Cas interrupted. "I wasn't sure at first but now I'm positive. It must be him."

"Gabriel . . ." Sam muttered, trying to place the name to one of the many faces he had seen in his dreams. "Isn't he . . . dead? Or was that someone else?"

"No, Sammy's right," Dean said. "Cas, Gabe's been dead for years."

Castiel slowly shook his head. "No . . . No I don't think so. I believe he may be hiding somewhere, but there is no doubt in my mind that this is his doing. He always did have a fondness for you boys."

"Fondness?!" Dean exclaimed. "Every time we met him he tried to kill us!"

"Least he cared," Sam murmured. He tried to think of all that he had seen when Castiel gave him the update on everything that had happened in the past 8 years. Dean either didn't hear him or chose to ignore what he said.

"So how do we find him?" Dean asked. "I mean, the dude was always pretty damn good at hiding!"

"Took me six months to find him didn't it?" Sam asked. "After he killed Dean like 500 times?"

"What?! When did that-"

"Never mind," Sam said. "I think I remember enough of it . . . He responded to a summoning ritual for a trickster-or the start of one anyway. You're supposed to kill a person but I didn't get that far, in fact he was there the whole time but maybe if we _show _him we know what he's doing . . . I don't know, he'll come out?"

"You want to start a summoning ritual for an entirely different species because Gabriel _might_ come out of hiding?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, I do."

Dean shrugged and stood up. "Sounds like a plan. What will we need?"

Sam rose to his feet as well. "I'll see what I can remember."


End file.
